A Moment in Time
by Necchan
Summary: First of the 3 fics I wrote to celebrate Rockman's 21st Anniversary back in December. Vignette. EXTREME fluff. "It's Megaman's birthday, and our little hero is enjoying the best gift of all - his brother, back home". COULD be Shounen-ai, if you like. :D


**Title: **"A moment in time"

**Author:** Nemesi.

**Fandom:** Rockman Classic Series (MM).

**Genre: **Fluff. Melancholy. That kind of sweet/sad that gives you the shivers. Can either be romance, or a veryvery close friendship.

**Word Count:** 1039.

**Characters: **Protoman, Megaman.

**Rating:** PG

**Disclaimer:** Rockman, its characters, places and themes belong to Capcom, Shogakukan, ShoPro, TV Tokio, etc. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Completion. Sometimes it's so easy to achieve.

* * * * *

**I**t is well into winter, and the air is chilly, though not unpleasant. It brims with different smells – the tang of wet soil, rotten leaves and moss, rain and something else, something subtle, like oil or smog, that coats the tongue and tickles the back of your throat.

The park is silent at this time of the night, and devoid of people. The only sound that of trickling water, the rustling of trees. The only thing moving is petite and blue and made of metal; boards and wires in the shape of a boy, with ripe cheeks flushed by both cold and laughter.

The wind quietens and picks up again with an oddly regular rhythm, like the breathing of a sleeping giant. It tears through the trees, rips the leaves from their branches, makes them fall in swirls and circles.

Megaman stands in the leaf-shower, head tilted to the sky above, peering through his lashes at the hiding moon. The leaves are red and orange and move like butterflies around him, shining wet in the lamplight. They are cool and pleasant as they brush against his face and hands, and crunch loudly under his feet, like roasted candies.

He takes a few tentative steps across the mantle of fallen leaves. Gaining confidence as he goes, he skips and hops forth, speeding up when the wind does, and pausing when it drops. He leaps; then, like a dancer, spins back to whence he came, and presses himself flush against Protoman's chest, twining small arms about his neck, eyes twinkling, laughter spilling, flush deepening to a darker shade of pink when their noses brush together.

Protoman arches a delicate eyebrow in silent enquiry. Mega laughs again, delighted, a sound as sweet as wind chimes. He catches Protoman's hand, squeezes his fingers in a paroxysm of joy, then pulls away again, not a dancer, but a small child this time, running with his arms spread wide to catch the wind.

"Protoman!" he calls. "Proto, come! _Come!_"

And when the red robot doesn't immediately catch up, Megaman darts back to him, half-pouting and half-smiling, catches the gloved hand in his own, and tugs gently on it, an endearing gesture, full of hope.

"Please?"

Protoman seems amused as he tugs back, refusing to walk any quicker.

"What's the hurry?" he reasons. "The house is not going anywhere. Or has Dr Light turned it in a moving caravan without my knowing?"

Megaman purses his lips for but a moment. Then his frown clears up into a brilliant smile, like the sun emerging from behind thick clouds. He can't help it. Laughter spills from him as he throws himself in Protoman's arms again, snuggles against him, as if that was the place he was built to be.

"I can't wait to be home," he says, dreamily. He seems unable to stay put for more than a few seconds, and here he is perking up again, pulling Protoman with him, running towards the horizon, smiling all the while.

Protoman offers no resistance this time. His lips quirk up at the edges as Megaman leads him deeper into the park, bending to rush under the lowest branches, delicate archways from which crawlers plants trail almost to the ground; skipping through polls of rainwater that shine like mirrors or moon-shards, brushing past trees and bushes bejewelled with ice and dew.

"I'm so glad you came! I never thought… I never _hoped_…" Megaman stops, suddenly, twirls on the spot and latches onto Protoman again, and they teeter dangerously for a moment, before the older robot is able to steady them. Megaman burrows deeper into his chest, and one would almost expect him to start purring, he looks so content.

"Well, I wouldn't miss your birthday."

Protoman ruffles Megaman's hair, carefully brushes it free from the particles of ice there gathered, and tilts his face up. He cannot fathom how his presence could make another so happy. Yet, here Megaman is, breathless with joy and excitement, and Protoman feels the heart he is not _supposed_ to have skip several beats in a row.

Lost in thought, he doesn't notice he is running his knuckles down Megaman's cheek in a caress until the other leans into the touch, gazing at him with eyes made liquid with emotion.

"I know you will leave again," Megaman is saying now, voice low and almost suave in the deepening darkness. His cheeks are as red as his lips, by now. His eyes are polls of moonlight, and they seem bottomless and so precious, framed by the thick lashes the colour of ink. "You will disappear with the first light of dawn, like a shadow or a dream. I will wake up, and you will not be there anymore. I know it."

"Mega…"

"I know it," he shakes his head, a reproach that is too sweet to be called such, something desperately gentle, so resigned, forgiving, and understanding at once. Wordlessly, Megaman stretches up to burrow his face against Protoman's neck, and even if his mouth quivers as he speak, his voice is clear and steady. "But you are here now. And this is all that matters. _You _are all that matters…"

Protoman encloses Megaman in his arms, pulls him to his chest, twining his arms around his small waist, savouring the slimness, the exquisite fragility of it. Tilting his head, he presses his cold lips to Megaman's throat, the smooth hollow where a human's pulse would be, and whispers something – a promise, a curse, or a prayer – against the sweet skin, something that only Megaman can hear.

Arms close about him, and for a moment, is it not easy to discern who is clinging to who, who's being supported and who's bearing the heaviest burden. A moment. Then the winds picks up again, the clouds move to hide the moon, and as the light fades, and leaves fall in a curtain about them, it becomes impossible to tell one from the other, and their shapes, so entwined, seem to mould into a single being, so that there is no Protoman and Megaman anymore, but only a lonely piece of machinery, ticking softly into the night, shining so prettily in the darkness, like a beacon of hope.

**~*~****おわり****~*~**


End file.
